Chapter 38: The Hidden
Vivienne’s head was spinning.
Her whole brain was on fire.
She kept screaming at herself, why did you say yes, you moron? Why didn’t you say no? Why are you such an idiot?
But on the outside, she kept smiling at André sweetly. Her face was calm, almost angelic, as if she wasn’t dying inside. She looked like a devoted little maid, while inside she wanted to faint, cry, and run away all at once.
They walked together down the hallway to her room.
Her palms were sweaty. Her knees were weak. Her stomach was tight as if she had swallowed rocks. Every step toward her room felt like walking into her own grave.
When they got to the door, her heart was beating so fast she thought André could hear it.
The door opened. They stepped inside.
The air in the room felt heavy.
Vivienne thought, please God, please, don’t let him do something to me. Not again. My body cannot take it. My soul cannot take it.
André smiled faintly as he looked around her room. His eyes went over the furniture, the little desk, the bed with its soft sheets, and the curtains.
He nodded slowly.
"It suits you," he said gently, almost kindly.
Vivienne forced a smile and answered, "Thank you."
Her voice was steady, but inside her head she was screaming, suits me for what? Satisfies you, you demon? You want to cage me in here like a pet?
André didn’t notice her storming thoughts. Or maybe he did and just enjoyed them.
He smiled again. Calmly, he took off his coat and draped it on the chair. Then his fingers went to his cravat. He untied it slowly, smoothly, like someone who had all the time in the world. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, revealing his forearms, then turned his eyes back to her.
"I’m waiting," he said.
Vivienne blinked.
Her mouth opened slightly.
Her brain went into panic.
Waiting? Waiting for what? For me to faint? For me to strip? For me to die?
She thought, what kind of madness is this? I thought you said you love me, so why are you trying to kill me? Please just leave me alone. Please.
But outside, she didn’t say a word. Her lips stayed sealed.
The silence stretched.
It was unbearable.
Then André spoke again.
"Are you going to sleep in that dress?" His voice was calm, but there was something playful under it. "Isn’t it going to be uncomfortable?"
Vivienne froze.
"Huh... my dress?" she muttered.
Her brain screamed, so it’s true. He really wants to do it again. It’s not even up to an hour since you almost broke my back in the dining room. You monster. You devil. And now you want to fuck again? Please, no, please, I’ll die.
André stepped closer. His tall frame shadowed her. His hands moved slowly to the back of her dress. He began untying the ribbons and strings that held it together.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Her dress loosened. Her dumb, traitorous body let it slide to the floor.
He undid the corset with steady fingers.
Inside, Vivienne was sobbing. Screaming. Not again, not again, God why me. Please save me.
But André didn’t push further. Instead, he walked to the drawer. He opened it casually, humming to himself. Then he said, "Ah-ha."
He pulled out a soft, white nightdress. It looked clean, light, and delicate.
He turned back to her and held it out.
"Put this on," he said. "It will be more comfortable."
Vivienne blinked again.
Comfortable for what? Another session of your endless teasing? Another chance to torture me till I go insane?
But she had no choice. She slipped into the nightdress. The fabric was soft against her skin, too soft, as if mocking her.
André watched her with quiet eyes. He thought, she’s scrambling. She’s fighting inside. How adorable. Don’t worry, little thief. We’ll have plenty of fun tonight.
He walked calmly to the bed. He lay down on it, propping his head on one arm.
Vivienne stared at him. She thought, God, is there really no escape? I’m trapped with this madman. He’s going to eat me alive. I’ll die here tonight. Someone bury me with dignity at least.
Then his voice broke the silence again, low and smooth.
"Come lie down."
Her body shivered.
Her skin crawled with disgust.
She thought, what other choice do I have? If I say no, he’ll suspect me. If I say yes, I’ll lose my sanity. God help me. And what annoys me most is that my useless body will probably enjoy it again. I’m cursed. Absolutely cursed.
Her steps were small. She moved like a mouse heading toward a lion’s den. She shyly lay on the bed, keeping a careful distance.
But André shifted closer. His presence suffocated her. His breath brushed her cheek.
She closed her eyes tight. Here goes nothing. Goodbye, cruel world.
But André didn’t touch her the way she expected.
Instead, he leaned across her, reached for the table, and picked up a book.
He opened it calmly. He lay back beside her. Then he said softly, "Are you afraid I’ll do something to you? Don’t worry. I only want to read to you."
Vivienne’s head almost exploded.
Read? Did he just say read? To me?
She stared at him blankly.
Her thoughts were a storm. Read to me? What am I, a toddler? Who reads to a woman after fucking her? Who does that? Oh my God, those rumors were true. You are sick. Completely sick in the head.
But she didn’t let her madness show. Instead, she forced herself to smile. She leaned her head against his chest. She curled into him sweetly, acting like the perfect little lover.
She smiled up at him stupidly, even though inside she wanted to choke him with his own book.
André began reading.
His voice was smooth. Too smooth. Each word slid into the air like silk. It was soothing, soft, and calm. It wrapped around her like a lullaby.
Vivienne hated it.
She despised every note of his perfect voice. She wanted to rip his mouth off and throw it out the window.
Her blood boiled.
Her skin prickled.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Please. Shut the fuck up.
She couldn’t take it anymore. So she did the only thing she could. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
Her breathing slowed. She kept it even, fake but convincing.
André noticed. He lowered the book.
He looked down at her face.
Her eyelids were shut, but he could tell. He could see the tiny twitch in her lashes, the stiffness in her jaw.
She’s pretending, he thought. She must be seething. How delicious. Don’t worry, little thief. I’ll make you insane.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
Then another on her cheek.
Then another, on every inch of her face, slow and tender.
He whispered against her skin, "I love you, Vivienne."
He knew it would make her want to scream.
Vivienne clenched her teeth behind closed lips. Inside she was shrieking, someone save me, I cannot take this anymore.
But she endured it.
She didn’t move. She didn’t open her eyes.
André studied her again. He thought, looks like she has tolerance. Good. That makes the game more fun.
Finally, he stood.
He tucked her in neatly, pulling the blanket over her shoulders like she was a fragile child.
Then he left the room quietly.
The moment the door shut, Vivienne let out the longest breath of her life.
She whispered, "I thought I might die."
Her body shook as relief and anger tangled together.
Outside, André walked down the silent hallway.
He didn’t go to his chambers.
He went back to the portrait room.
The candlelight flickered across the painted faces on the walls. His eyes went to the large painting of his mother.
He stood there for a moment, staring at her soft, painted smile.
Then his gaze shifted. Just beside it, half-hidden, was a smaller painting.
André stepped closer. His fingers brushed the frame.
He pushed it slightly aside.
Behind it, there was a door.
A hidden door.
He placed his hand on the knob. Slowly, silently, he turned it.
André opened it.